St Bart's Christmas Party
by johnsarmylady
Summary: Sherlock isn't a party person - in fact he dislikes parties immensely. One party however conjures up fond memories. A smutty Christmas fic, rated M


**A smutty little Christmas fic, purely for the hell of it! Special thanks to MapleleafCameo for the wonderful things that she says - guaranteed to inspire and bring out the worst in me!**  
**Disclaimer: As ever, I own nothing but my original story - and some of that was filched from MLC!**

**Flashback in _Italics_**

Sherlock was never really one for parties, but office parties were the worst of the lot with their overly familiar behaviour and couples disappearing into darkened rooms, returning later looking flustered and dishevelled.

It was for this reason that he had put his foot down and insisted that he and John give the Hospital party a miss this year – although last year's had had surprising results….

"_I'm bored John – do we really have to do this?" Looking round with a sneer curling his upper lip, Sherlock had already noted three couples that had made assignations for later that evening, and were trying hard not to let it show._

_John just grinned up at him._

"_I need to be here, it would be rude of me not to attend seeing as how they are happy to employ me on an ad hoc basis in between chasing criminals, and you've been invited because you virtually live in the mortuary."_

"_You don't have to work…."_

"_No Sherlock, we're not doing this here, and we're not doing this now." Glancing around, John spotted some of his colleagues in debate around the food table. "Look, I need to mingle a bit, have a chat to a few people. We don't have to stay long – but we do have to stay."_

"_Fine." The curly headed genius huffed and turned to walk away. A hand on his arm stopped him, and he looked back at his flatmate._

"_Just….just don't be rude to anyone, okay? I really do have to work here."_

_With a brief nod Sherlock pulled away, heading for the doors and an escape into the courtyard. Several others were outside, and he managed to scrounge a cigarette from one of the nurses – if he had to be here at least he could enjoy __**something**__._

_~O~_

_Inside John was discussing various trauma reduction strategies with fellow doctors, but as the evening drew on the room seemed to get incredibly warm and stuffy, and he excused himself, wandering towards the windows to cool down._

_From time to time his drink had been refilled, although he hadn't really taken much notice of who was doing the refilling, it seemed that his glass was never empty. Not that he minded of course, it made it so much easier for him to talk to the two lovely nurses that had draped themselves around him and smiled so invitingly._

_~O~_

_Just as he was finishing his third filched cigarette, Sherlock looked up to see Molly Hooper hurrying across the flagstones towards him. He groaned inwardly, but whatever he expected her to say it was not the words that tumbled hurriedly out of her mouth._

"_Sherlock, you've got to come inside. I think someone's been spiking John's drinks!"_

_Flicking away the cigarette end he swept past the pathologist and headed back in to the party. It didn't take long to spot John; he was dancing drunkenly with the two nurses, and giggling wildly as he did so._

_The crowds parted as Sherlock stalked across the dance floor and stopped in front of his friend._

"_We're going home." He glared down at the flushed and grinning doctor. "Right now."_

"_Really?" it came out sounding like a five year old who'd been told to put his toys away on Christmas day, unfortunately John was too drunk to realise it._

"_Yes John, really. Molly, get his coat for him please."_

_The mousy pathologist dashed off to the cloak room in search of John's jacket. Meanwhile, on the dance floor John was looking sadly at the two nurses._

"_I think I've got to go home – sorry ladies."_

"_Why?" The younger one asked._

"_Says who?" The other pouted._

_John rolled his eyes towards the younger man, who was currently looking extremely pissed off._

"_Himself and the bossypants look of doom." He giggled._

"_Right, that's it John. Home, now!" Sherlock snarled, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him from the room. _

_As he pushed the inebriated doctor into a cab Molly dashed out and handed over John's coat, waving a hasty goodbye as the door slammed and the vehicle pulled away._

"_Bossypants! Bossypants!" John was giggling and singing as they travelled back to Baker Street, much to the amusement of the driver. _

_For Sherlock the journey couldn't end soon enough, and as he struggled to get the doctor up the stairs he swore to himself he'd never attend another party in his life._

_John clung to the lanky detective, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, a stupid grin on his face. _

_Closing the flat door, Sherlock tried to prise John off him, but the small blond doctor just hugged tighter, so with an awkward shuffling motion he moved them into the living room._

"_John, you are going to have to let me go. If you hadn't drunk so much you could have gone on dancing with those….women." the last word was said with such distaste that it seemed to sober the older man momentarily._

"_Don'…don't want them. One I want doesn't want me." Letting his arms slip away John slumped down, landing heavily in his chair more by luck than judgement. In the blink of an eye he went from happy drunk to sad lonely man._

_Sherlock frowned. He flicked through his mind's list of John's girlfriends that had graced the flat at one time or another throughout the year, but each one had dumped him, and he remembered that despite this John hadn't really seemed that upset._

"_Who doesn't want you John? I didn't think you were seeing anyone at the moment."_

"_Most beautiful person in the whole world. Don't want me, far too good for a broken toy soldier…"_

"_Oh for God's sake John get a grip, you're turning into a maudlin drunk."_

"_I'm not good enough…I'll never be good enough…he's so beautiful, so clever…too good for me…"_

_Whatever Sherlock was about to say turned to sawdust on his tongue. He? To the best of his knowledge John had only dated women, and every one of them had taken second place to….his body stilled, and he looked down at his friend._

_John was staring sadly back up at him, his dark blue eyes shining glassily with a mixture of alcohol and unshed tears, and suddenly Sherlock understood why, despite his so-called reputation with the ladies, none of them stayed longer than a few weeks – it wasn't because he was forever dropping out of their dates to chase down yet another case – it was because John loved someone else, and if his reasoning was correct…._

"_I suppose I ought to go, now that you know." John's voice was low and sad as he struggled out of his seat. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to embarrass you."_

"_No stop!" _

"_No Sherlock, no….I don't want to actually hear that rejection. I'm sorry, I'll go pack."_

"_Will you stop apologising? I don't want your apology; I want to know how long."_

_Long slender fingers closed around the tops of John's arms, and the smaller man leaned into their firm grip, his eyes fluttering closed and his forehead falling forward to rest against Sherlock's chest._

"_Since forever. Since….we chased around London after that cabbie, since we giggled at the crime scene…."_

"_That long?" The baritone dropped to a whisper, the silver-grey eyes drank in the sight of man in front of him, seeing the anxiety melt under a wave of hope. "I wish I had known."_

"_But you said…"_

"_I know what I said, and you have no idea how often I have regretted those words." Pale hands slipped upwards to cup John's face, holding him still as he dipped his head to capture lips that were parted in anticipation._

_Hesitantly at first John's arms slid back around the taller man's slender waist, and as the kiss deepened his hold became firmer, more self-assured, his hands moving of their own accord – one upwards to bury its fingers in thick dark curls, the other sliding down to cup a tight buttock and pull it closer._

_With a groan Sherlock tried to wrap himself around the smaller man, but unfortunately for him John was still suffering the effects of having his drinks spiked and they staggered and fell, landing in a tangle of arms and legs on the couch._

_Later, neither of them could say how their clothes ended up draped all over the Christmas tree, but when they woke the following morning someone had tucked a duvet over their naked bodies….._

Fingers toying with the elasticated waistband of his pyjama bottoms drew Sherlock from his mind palace, and he opened his eyes to see John smiling down at him.

"Sure you don't want to go to that party?" He asked, his fingers pushing under the elastic and drifting slowly lower.

Taut muscles twitched and quivered.

"No, no party." Grey eyes held blue as the younger man drew in a shaky breath. "What are you doing John?"

John grinned.

"Looking for a big fluffy monster." Fingertips traced circles into tightly curled pubic hair, and John's grin widened as his pupils dilated. Dropping his voice to a whisper he added "and it seems I've wakened the sleeping beast…."

Sherlock's hips bucked, and he turned his head in John's lap, nuzzling at the growing ridge in the other man's trousers.

"I believe…." He said softly "That we have a party of our own to attend, just down the hallway."


End file.
